Chapter 21

Even with my heart wounded, my interrupted training needed to resume. Good thing I had worn my enchanted uniform back from the airport; it saved me a change. The training helmet only covered the top and sides of my head. Even after training with them for a time, they seemed inferior to the full-head kendo coverings they had issued us at the academy.

I was paired with one of the boys from another academy, Hiroto. We didn’t have much to talk about, since my slowly improving Japanese didn’t let me answer the questions about the weather in Belfast and the knighting ceremony. All I could say was that the weather had been ‘nice’, or the flight had been ‘good’.

At least I knew what he was trying to ask, which was some sort of progress. I was without my translator, since I hadn’t packed it on my journey. He was polite enough, at least, and he gave me a good spar.

A pity I wasn’t living up to my end of the bargain. A mix of worry and curiosity had me glancing Mariko’s way at some inopportune moments, particularly when I heard her call out in surprise or pain. Our Sergeant had entered the fray, since my arrival had unbalanced the teams. It seemed that Carine Lakhdar was as good as her word to give Mariko special attention, as she stayed with Mariko through rotation after rotation. The loud cry came when she was bowled off her feet by a leg sweep.

I was proven right about the helmet’s flaws. That particular lapse of attention gave me a black eye, which Hiroto started to repair with a Subdermal Heal.

“Are you worried about Yamada?” he asked, speaking slowly.

I struggled a moment to remember my conjugation. “Yesly, not too fighter much. Like more a doctor.”

From his grin, I could tell I hadn’t quite nailed it yet. “That is obvious,” he said, before stopping mid-cast. “Then I should not heal you,” he added, nodding Mariko’s way.

“Why not?” I asked, recognition dawning a moment later. “Ah, I see. Good man you are, Hiroto.”

“I have the fabricata,” he said, tapping his ear. “I would understand English.”

“Have someday to learn,” I said. “I will back be.”

“We have tutoring for the foreigners,” he said. “Tonight after dinner.”

“Sounds good,” I said, jogging over towards Mariko and Sergeant Lakhdar.

I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, since they weren’t considerate enough to speak slowly like Hiroto. Body language gave it away, though. Mariko was fully on the defensive with her training sword, and the sergeant was telegraphing her moves to give her time to respond. Mariko managed to keep hold of her weapon, at least.

Sergeant Lakhdar finally tired of the game, catching Mariko in the stomach with the blunt end of her wooden bokken. Mariko’s white Wizard Corps uniform flashed orange as it absorbed the shock, but she was sent to the ground again.

My casual walk turned into a jog.

The sergeant slammed her fist against her chest. “Attack! Come on, I’m wide open. It’s basically an invitation! What’s the matter?”

Mariko hadn’t quite caught her breath. “I-I keep saying I am a pacifist.”

“What does that have to do with following orders? Stop trying to defend yourself and hit me!” Spotting my approach, Sergeant Lakhdar switched to English. “What do you want, Marlowe?”

I tapped at the side of my face, which proved to be a mistake. “I was hoping for some help with this shiner I’m developing.”

She glanced from me and back to Hiroto. “And Akagawa couldn’t fix that for you because…”

“Well,” I said, thinking quickly. “It was—”

“Especially since I saw him casting it before he stopped,” she continued, cutting me off. “You let yourself get clobbered so you had an excuse to see your girl. I’ll give you top marks for creativity.”

It seemed she had an inflated opinion of my skills. “How did you notice that while you were mid-duel?”

Sergeant Lakhdar leveled her sword at Mariko, keeping it between us so I couldn’t help her up. “Cadet Yamada isn’t much of a challenge. Tell me, had you even picked up a sword before you got here?”

Finally catching her breath, Mariko levered herself up. “N-not in anger,” she managed.

“Then I don’t know why you’re here,” she replied. “I read the reports about how you helped fight off the Holy Brotherhood on three different occasions. Were they wrong?”

“Not exactly,” I said, stepping between them. “I’ve only seen her launch one attack on an enemy, and it was more of a warning shot. She’s an invaluable support mage, though.”

Sergent Lakhdar stepped around me, giving Mariko a pitying look. “That explains this whole week. Here I thought you were the honorable sort of pacifist.”

“The honorable sort?” I asked.

Sergeant Lakhdar nodded. “The honorable sort doesn’t look for a fight, but is willing to end it when the situation demands. You’re the sort who would rather be helpless and force others to fight for them.”

Mariko’s cheeks went red with anger. “I do not expect you to understand. Life is precious.”

“Which is exactly why you need to get with the program,” she replied. “You’re forfeiting your vote for which lives are precious, and the Horde outvotes us.”

Mariko didn’t respond; really, there wasn’t a logical response without outing herself. She had her reasons, though I think I was the only living soul who knew the real motive. The obstinate woman had nearly as many secrets as I did, from her scarred arm to her war criminal grandfather.

“I understand your perspective,” said Mariko, “but I simply cannot.”

Sergent Lakhdar spun around, fixing me with a glare. “Marlowe, let her fix your eye. Take it as an excuse to talk some sense into her; she likes you. I’m going to go check on the others.”

I kept my face a passive mask. Mariko looked cross, and it wasn’t just at our drill sergeant.

“Come on over, Soren,” she said, gently guiding me down by the collar. Her tone wasn’t icy, but it wasn’t exactly warm, either. “Subdermal Heal.” Runes spun through the air, and I could feel the gentle tug of her ministrations against my magical energy.

“Alright, what did I do wrong?” I asked. “I’d have thought you’d be happy to see me after a week.”

Her frown deepened. “I am.”

“You don’t sound like it!” I said.

“I am on edge, but it mostly is not you,” she replied. “That woman has been drilling me to exhaustion and trying to force me to fight.”

“But it is partially me,” I countered. “So, what is it?”

“I am surprised you do not already know,” she said, “given what happened in North Ireland.”

Oh, that was a relief. “You do realize that Wendy wasn’t my actual fiancée, right? There are a dozen reasons that would be quite impossible.”

“I know that. Wendy was not the problem,” she said. “It was—”

“Marlowe, your face is already handsome enough,” barked Sergeant Lakhdar, loud enough that some of the cadets stopped to watch the spectacle. “Get back to sparring! You’re already a week behind!”

Mariko lowered her hand, dispelling the magic. “You are always the center of attention. Go on; we can talk later.”

I wasn’t going to leave on that note. Mindful of the sergeant’s watchful gaze, I took her by her trembling right hand and kissed her fingers. “I’ll count the moments, my dear.”

Mariko went from downcast to annoyed, pulling her hand away. “Am I?”

“Am I what?”

She didn’t respond, though, instead recovering her discarded bokken. Before I could demand an explanation, a sharp whistle split the air, signaling that I’d earned myself five laps around the dueling field for dallying about.

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Chapter 22

‘Later’ was slow in coming. Mariko ate lunch with some of the female cadets I didn’t recognize and was assigned a different study group for the afternoon’s magical training. It seemed that the sergeant wasn’t done shuffling us around after a week.

I doubted that other training platoons got so much magical training, but then again, we were all trying to cram the highlights of a second year’s education into a few months. Nothing about this situation was normal, or even liable to keep our throats un-slit.

At least we got an excuse to be outdoors and away from the base. We were well away from The Gauntlet, but the gap in the tree line seemed just as artificial. The training zone was perfectly circular. There didn’t seem to be enough staff at Installation 17B to maintain it, so I wondered if headmaster Tachibana had done something like salt the earth to keep it that way. If that was the case, I was glad his powers only worked on plants.

I was distracted from such questions by the show occurring right in front of me.

“Do you get it now?” demanded Gabriella, her hands on her hips as her frustration boiled over.

On paper, my own study partners made sense. Kiyo had graduated out of the remedial courses months before the Tower Attack, and Gabriella was a wunderkind, at least in her own mind. Kowalski dragged the average down a tad, but we all at least shared the English language.

In practice, though…

Kowalski scratched the back of his head, looking shamefaced. “I still don’t think I get the point of these spells.”

It was his third time through the explanation, but I hadn’t tackled it yet. I furiously poured over the stanzas, hoping to be the first to master it. If I caught sight of it being cast by somebody else, it would lodge itself in my short-term memory. I’d be able to cast it, but it would fall out of my head in a day or two, and then I’d be back to square one.

Then again, Mimic had revealed unplumbed depths during my time in the human realms. I’d never really tried to learn the spell on paper before somebody went and cast it in front of me. It was always demonstrated in front of me while it was described, spoiling the effort. This time, I’d managed to miss that particular step in the process, and none of our group had mastered it yet. Maybe if I had some inkling of the spell in advance, it would stick?

It was all I could hope for, since I doubted Carine Lakhdar was the sort to make an individual lesson plan.

I wasn’t about to say it out loud, but Gabriella Hernandez was cute when she was angry. The fiery glint in her eyes was exciting, reminding me of the girls back home. Her curly, black locks bounced as she spun around, letting out a little groan of frustration. “Magic Bolt!” A steel target in the middle of the clearing felt her perfectly-cast wrath, though she hadn’t put enough ‘oomph’ behind it to do more than splash off the armored dummy.

Whatever self-confidence Kowalski had built up in Iceland looked like it was on the verge of collapse. I knew he could do it if he applied himself, but he was always his greatest enemy.

Kiyo gave me an exasperated look, as if to say, ‘come on, you’re the one who’s good at teaching stuff, look up from your book’!

Or, I was projecting my conscience onto her and she was still cross at me. I liked to think I knew my former Angel well enough to interpret her looks.

Very well; it was time to play teacher again. I slammed the book shut and stepped between Gabriella and Kowalski. “It is a bit complex to cast,” I said, trying to soothe his ego. “Do you remember that Red and Blue game we played back at the school?”

Kowalski nodded once. “Sure, the different energy fields that would color the grass and react with each other to score points.”

“It’s a bit like that, except instead of making you itch like you were covered in ants, the two halves of the spell are almost magnetic. One person casts Hephaestus’ Anvil on the target, and then the other follows up with Wrathful Hammer to plaster them across the landscape.”

“I get that,” he said. “Why do you need the anvil at all, though? And you have to get awfully close to cast it, too. Couldn’t we just cast a bunch of Wrathful Hammers?”

“That’s what I was trying to get through your head,” snapped Gabriella.

“Back off!” I snapped in turn, looming over Gabriella. “You’re just wasting daylight and oxygen.”

“And he isn’t?”

“Kowalski saved my life,” I said. “So you’ll find he ranks much higher in my estimation than you. So,as I said: back off.”

The haughty girl gulped, taking a step back. I hadn’t meant her to take my instruction quite so literally, but at least she was quiet. Though, there was something in her eyes I didn’t care for…

Kiyo sighed. “Sure, now he defends his friends.”

I let that one slide; it wasn’t a productive argument. “Anyhow,” I said, turning back towards a grateful-looking Kowalski, “according to this manual, Wrathful Hammer lives up to its name. It’s a bit like a Magic Bolt on steroids, which means it’s extremely expensive to cast. So, you need Hephaestus’ Anvil to properly mark the target. It looks like it’s basically impossible to miss if you do it right.”

He frowned. “Okay, but you still have to be able to touch the target to mark it. Sounds pretty risky to me.”

“It’s why we have swords,” said Kiyo, finally breaking her silence. “‘Sides, you can cast it and hold onto it while you close in. It’s no big.”

“What if somebody else is doing the same thing?” he asked. “You just made yourself a target, and then you’re going to get squished before you can pass it on to the bad guy.”

That brought Kiyo up short. “Uh… why are they teaching us this spell again?”

“Oh, don’t be babies about it,” said Gabriella. “It’s only good up to, like, fifteen meters. It’s also why you communicate with the other wizards around you.”

“Seems pretty easy to screw up,” said Kiyo, her already large eyes going wider. Funny how all it took to get her talking after weeks of the cold shoulder was a little fear.

“We can worry about tactics later,” I said, opening my spellcasting manual again. “Who wants to be the hammer and who wants to be the anvil? I think I can rattle off either one, if I have the book in front of me.” Volunteering seemed like the best way to make sure I could get off one of the spells.

Kiyo scratched her chin. “I guess I can be the anvil? I don’t have the best magic reserves, and I can disappear and get…” She trailed off, as if realizing she was finally talking to me, before turning away. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” Kiyo vanished from sight. I could just hear her reciting the raw spell. “Ti an ra al…”

Gabriella cocked an eyebrow at her display. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “What’s her problem?”

“We’re exes.”

“Aw, poor Magpie,” she cooed. “Can I make it better?”

I stepped back, foiling her attempt to tousle my hair. Not wanting to have it out with her in front of the others, I chose the path of indifference instead. “If you want to help, be a dear and hold my book up for me, would you?”

She pouted, but took on the role of pedestal.

Kowalski frowned. “You know he’s dating Mariko, right?”

“So I heard,” said Gabriella. “But, it sounds like there’s plenty of Magpie to go around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. Kowalski looked similarly confused.

“Oh, never mind,” she said. “Like you said, we’re wasting daylight.”

Our little disagreement had given Kiyo time to tag one of the targets with Hephaestus’ Anvil. It looked like a scarecrow made of stainless steel, decorated with heavily scratched paint that I think had once been bullseyes on the face and chest. I had just learned the term ‘paint’ in human military circles, which meant to mark a target for another’s attack. In this case, that was almost literal, since the whole target was wreathed in a brilliant, blue light.

“Huh,” said Gabriella. “Hey, Kiyo, you sure you cast that right? I didn’t see anything in the runes about a lightshow.”

Kiyo rippled back into view long enough to flip Gabriella the bird before vanishing again.

“Magpie, is she, uh, alright?” asked Kowalski.

“Not terribly,” I said. “I need to get casting, though; who knows how long Kiyo’s spell will last?”

I was glad for the excuse to drop the conversation. My raw spell was considerably more complex than Kiyo’s, so it took nearly a full minute of rattling it off before it was ready.

Oh, this was a big one; the energy crackled around my hands, demanding release. I was happy to oblige, since my fingers were going numb.

It seemed the spell’s name wasn’t simply poetic; the bright red energy flew from my gasp, forming into a cylinder as long as my arm. I could barely watch, as the red light streaming from the Wrathful Hammer drowned out even Kiyo’s ‘paint’. It hovered twenty feet over the scarecrow like a second sun.

“I see why they—”

Before I could finish the thought, Wrathful Hammer slammed into the earth like a missile.

I didn’t see the moment of impact, since a spray of earth and snow obscured my vision, followed by a blinding flash of purple light as the spells met. Sufficed to say, there had been a steel target there before, but now there was a metallic disc the size of a manhole cover driven a good foot into the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Kiyo and Gabriella were in near perfect sync.

My ears still ringing, I continued. “I see why Wrathful Hammer needs the assist! It’s got practically no guidance on its own, and adding that would only make it even more expensive to cast.”

Kiyo had appeared again as she dropped to her knees. “I-if you got the timing wrong, I’d have been…”

“Definitely one to be cautious with,” I said. I bent over, offering her a hand up. Showing just how out of it she was, she accepted it, though she yanked her hand away as soon as she’d regained her senses.

Kowalski coughed into his hand.

Gabriella looked over her shoulder to glare at him. “Yeah, we get it, you had a point. The spells are dangerous. No reason to rub it in.”

“H-huh?” he said. “No, I just got some dirt in my throat.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes. “Sure, man. Sure. Magpie, it’s your turn to hold the book for me.”

Kowalski gulped. “Th-then I guess I’m on tagging duty.” He went to work reciting the spell, though I was distracted by a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, Mag… Marlowe,” said Kiyo. “Look away from Rafal so you don’t Mimic the anvil spell.”

“Oh, good idea,” I said, pivoting away.

“Hold it still,” said Gabriella.

“No problem, my dear,” I said.

It turned out that my suspicion had been correct; having run through the spell once on my own, I didn’t feel that familiar stroke of understanding watching Gabriella prepare Wrathful Hammer.

We each took our turns. Gabriella and I might have gotten into a bit of a competition to see who could cast the biggest Hammer. It was impressive she could keep up with me; I have better magical reserves than most human wizards, and I was feeling drained by the fourth casting. By the time we were done, none of the dozen targets were still standing.

“Perhaps we overdid it a tad,” I said. “We were only told to cast each spell once apiece…”

“You’re just griping because I won.” Gabriella was positively beaming. “Doesn’t seem very gentlemanly, Sir Magpie.”

“You’re a dirty rebel colonist,” I said. “You shouldn’t acknowledge my rank.”

“Nah, my ancestors were in Mexico at the time,” she said. “I didn’t have a part of that fight. Plus, now I can say I know a knight. The family’s going to be so jealous when I tell them.”

“I’m glad to be of service,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She leaned over to keep eye contact, her body language loosening up now that she’d managed to best me. She almost looked cute like that.

“Aw, don’t pout. Win or lose, that was a lot of fun. Right? I saw you smiling.”

“There was some satisfaction in it,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kiyo’s face contort into a scowl. What had her so cross all of a sudden? At least it seemed to be focused on Gabriella.

“Satisfaction?” snorted Gabriella, unaware of Ms. Jones’ pique. “I felt like Zeus himself!”

“Yeah, that was pretty fun,” said Kowalski, thankfully cutting off Gabriella. “I don’t get to let loose often.”

“Remember, I only did one hammer,” said Kiyo. “If they take it out of our pay, it’s all on you guys.”

“I can’t believe you kept going in there to be the anvil,” said Kowalski. “You were pretty scared after the first time.”

She shrugged. “Nothing gets better by avoiding it.”

That was rich, given the war of passive aggression she’d waged against me since the train station!

However, it did occur to me there might have been a small chink in her armor. She had turned invisible that first time she’d cast Hephaestus’ Anvil. She had been good enough to be mindful of Mimic before; had she vanished to make sure I couldn’t see her cast the spell?

I hoped so; I had more than enough female troubles to deal with.